


Shore Leave

by PunkHazard



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkHazard/pseuds/PunkHazard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(10) Mako learns belatedly that rules in the Jaeger bay exist for a reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly done as prompts on tumblr @ungyo.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nova Hyperion & Crimson Typhoon hot springs episode.

Cheung's sitting just under the roofed half of the spring, so used to the noise from his brothers that they're easy enough to ignore in favor of the reflection of stars on the surface of the water. Hakone is famous for its onsen-- and it's a brief stop before they kick off a publicity tour through the rest of Japan (it's only been a week since Hidoi hit Bangkok; no kaiju due for another few months yet). 

He moves toward the side of the basin to sit on the ledge underneath the water, smiling mildly when Hu splashes hot water on his face in greeting, dunking his brother's head underwater in retaliation before allowing him to stand back up. 

「Hey Mako!」 Jin calls over the partition in Chinese (all of the East Asian Rangers are required to have some level of fluency in the language-- that, or Japanese), 「Anyone else over there with you?」 

A short silence passes before she replies, 「Yes,」 and another voice asks, _Are the Wei brothers over there?_

Mako's reply is another resigned _Yes_ , and there's a scramble on the other side, some weak protests from Mako, and a dark head pops over the wooden slats between the men and women's sections. Hu and Jin sit down in the water so fast a wave splashes over Cheung's face and he drags a hand over his eyes to clear them before looking over his shoulder. 

「Wow, it's them! They really are identical.」 A pause. 「Two of them, at least.」 

Hu plunges his head into the water, moves to sit next to his eldest brother along the edge of the bath, and stays submerged until Cheung cups a hand firmly under his chin and drags him up. 「No drowning, asshole.」 

Jin leans over the edge of the basin, folds his arms over the warm stone and grins. 「Hey, it's Nova Hyperion!」 

「So-yi,」 someone else snaps, 「get down.」 

「Aww, they don't mind, right?」 She laughs, sticking her tongue out at Jin, 「I used to buy every magazine with them in it. This is tame.」 

「Wait,」 Hu cuts in, a warning edge to his voice, 「some of them were definitely photomanips. Just for the record.」 

「You guys were great in May, I think one of our records got smashed with OS-24,」 Jin says excitedly. 「I didn't know you were gonna be in Hakone, are we doing this as a joint-team thing?」 

Mako's head appears over the fence, brows furrowed and expression stern. She may or may not have been waiting on confirmation that none of the triplets actually care about being seen in the bath, especially now that Jin and Hu have both settled down. 「It's a pan-Asian PPDC tour. You didn't read the dossier?」 

Jin flashes her a sheepish grin. 「I read _some_ of the dossier.」 

「It was a good dossier, Mako,」 Cheung says diplomatically, 「Jin just has a short attention span. We were going to brief him later.」 

The five of them chat until the door to the men's side slides open again. That escapes their notice; Stacker Pentecost's pointed "Good evening," does not. 

He has a small towel wrapped around his waist as he stands awkwardly in the doorway, steady authority still there, but muted without his crisp PPDC dress uniform-- it's a function of onsen that even the hierarchy of everyday social life would be stripped away. Still, Mako's head disappears so quickly it's almost an illusion. So-yi yelps in surprise, then drops back to the women's side. 「It's the Marshal! Oh my god. Wow. He looks great. Yuna, come on.」 

「That breaks my heart!」 Jin calls over, laughing. 「Are you saying we can't compare?」 

So-yi shouts back, 「It'll be your turn in a few more years! Once the little girls and boys who stare at your pictures online all day become legal and join up with the Jaeger Program.」 

「Hi, Sensei,」 Mako says, voice nearly lost in the splash of triplets making room for the Marshal along the edge of the basin. 

"I'd like to remind everyone that you are pilots who represent the PPDC," Stacker says as he lowers himself into the water, though his voice is resigned. 

Rangers are trained and drilled and conditioned to be some of the toughest and most disciplined individuals in the world-- but no matter their public persona, the term 'rockstar' has been applied to most of them and not, in Stacker's opinion, wrongly. Regular drug tests don't exactly deter Rangers from going wild in any situation under the influence of other things, though he supposes peeping at the hot springs is pretty tame compared to the kind of trouble they _could_ theoretically get into under his watch. 

"We brought a mahjong set," Jin says once Pentecost is settled, leaning in uncomfortably close from his left while Hu closes in from his right. "Is it okay if Mako comes up to play later? Nova's going to be there too." 

He leans away from both of them, unamused. "Nova Hyperion. Is that true?" 

Hu puts a hand to his chest, pulls an exaggeratedly offended face. 「He doesn't trust us!」 

"It's true, sir." Yuna's the one who answers, serious as usual but with a challenge in her voice that makes the hair on Cheung's arms (sparse as it is) stand on end. "When we win, they're paying for our lunches for the next few weeks." 

"You don't even know how to play," Jin snorts. 

"You should come up too, Marshal," Hu suggests, as if trying to make sure he doesn't feel left out, though he is sincere. "We know you can, and the three of us can teach everyone else." 

Stacker doesn't even want to consider how the triplets know he can play mahjong. Some things, he's better off not knowing, and never finding out. A commanding officer knows when to come crashing down on his subordinates' heads and when to turn a blind eye, where needed. "I should probably be there to keep an eye on Mako anyway." 

「I am sixteen, Sensei.」 Mako pokes her head back over the partition as she switches easily to Japanese, speaking quickly enough so the other Rangers can only catch bits of what she says. She turns a rebellious glare on her father and announces firmly, 「I do not need supervision, and you need to rest. Please, unless you truly want to play.」 

「I was only being polite, Mako. Nothing would please me more than winning the shirts off these dragons' backs.」 

Their swell of pride at being referred to as dragons by their commanding officer is quickly subsumed by righteous indignation. The triplets give a simultaneous, 「Hey, we understood that!」 while laughter bubbles up from the other side of the gate. 

>>

They keep score with a stack of ten 10-yen coins for each player. Cheung stands behind Mako, occasionally giving her advice and reminding her of the rules but mostly letting her handle the game on her own. She takes the first round. 「Beginner's luck,」 Jin snorts from his place crouched next to So-yi, 「enjoy it while it lasts.」 

Hu and Yuna win three straight hands next, calm and methodical though they nearly come to blows over which set to break near the end of the fourth round. Yuna eventually gives in, though the one Hu'd chosen to discard ends up becoming So-yi's (and Jin's) winning tile. Yuna rubs it in his face for the rest of the night. 

Stacker wins a handful of rounds, enough to retreat with dignity at the end of the match and remind Mako that they have a long day ahead as he heads back to his room. Hu takes his place at the table while Cheung and Jin peel off and dig up a pack of cards from one of their bags, absently adjusting their hotel-provided yukata. 

Mako catches Cheung's eye. 「You two are sure you don't want to play?」 

「Wouldn't be fair,」 Jin answers cheerfully, putting a finger to his temple and poking at Cheung's with his other hand, 「we'd just help each other win.」 

They settle on a futon, sitting cross-legged on the mattress pad. Cheung asks, 「You're going to be okay on your own, Mako?」 

「Yes. Thank you, I can handle this now.」 

「He makes me want a brother,」 So-yi sighs to her co-pilot, who smirks back. 

「Don't be fooled,」 Hu drawls, expertly building the wall on his side of the table, 「he's only nice to Mako. His actual brothers mostly receive abuse.」 

「If my actual brothers weren't filthy liars,」 Cheung shoots back, shrugging out of one side of the yukata to free up his arm while Jin does the same, 「they would receive less abuse.」 

「If you didn't abuse us, maybe we would not lie.」 Jin pauses, slides the deck out of its box and shuffles twice before he adds, 「Not that we lie.」 

Yuna snaps, annoyed but still somehow affectionate while So-yi shakes her head and draws a tile, 「Do you three think you're on a comedy show or something?」 

「They are usually only like this in private,」 Mako says (arguably) in their defense, 「but they were always like this.」 

「So you were just putting up a front in the Academy,」 So-yi teases, 「all, 'we're so cool and smart and tough and we get into a fistfight every week with someone-or-another' but you're actually just a bunch of dorks.」 

If the triplets are trained, well-fed and well-rested tigers now, they were newly plucked from the wild in their early academy days, caged and kept on very short leashes. Hu adapted the fastest-- snapping off flawless salutes before Cheung even began to wear his Ranger jumpsuit properly, before Jin learned to stand still and at attention without tapping his heels or drumming his fingers on any and every surface. Back when they could twist just about any comment tossed in their direction into a slight, if they were inclined to. 

「We were less like this in the Academy,」 Cheung admits, looking up briefly from his game of Spit with Jin. They can usually drag one match out for hours, but he doesn't intend to stay up so late with a press conference and a photoshoot for the next day. He snipes back, 「Miss So-yi seemed so friendly while we were in Canada, but you're actually pretty blunt, aren't you? It's almost like being back home with all of our old friends from the street.」 

Yuna muffles a snort, returns her co-pilot's offended glare with a raised eyebrow. So-yi sniffs, 「Two qualities that aren't mutually exclusive, thanks.」 

Hu draws his tile and laughs, quiet and warm, then shows his hand, tipping his row of tiles back so they're visible to the table. 「Sorry to interrupt, but this last round is mine. Pony up.」 

「That was quick,」 Yuna says good-naturedly, folding her own set toward herself and tossing a few coins in his direction while So-yi leans across the table to get a better look, heaving a sigh of frustration at a set of directional tiles in Hu's winning hand. 

Mako yawns, dutifully helps return the tiles to the their box, and stands with Nova Hyperion's Rangers as they scan the room for any of their belongings while they prepare to leave. 「We'll walk the kid back,」 Yuna volunteers easily, snatching up three small bottles of tea (that the triplets had bought earlier for themselves and then forgotten) as she struts out of the room. 

So-yi glances over her shoulder as she whisks Mako away, grins and waves. 「We'll see you around, Wei boys.」


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wei triplets' dim sum game is unparalleled.

Visits from Horizon Brave's ex-pilots are always an Event-- not just for the Shatterdome, but practically all of Hong Kong, ever since they retired to Sichuan. The Rangers who trained Crimson Typhoon's crew get a hero's welcome, and three very tall, very excitable pilots shadowing their every step, pulling out seats, pouring tea, intercepting jackets and dashing across rooms to make sure they don't lift a single finger more than they absolutely have to. 

Hin Shen lost most of the vision in his right eye in Manila, two fingers of his dominant hand shaved off in the same incident. Xichi's left arm is gone just below her shoulder, an advanced prosthetic in its place and burn scars extending over half her chest, seared up one side of her neck. They look great; moving with dignified, easy familiarity through the Hong Kong Shatterdome tailed by an ecstatic crew, at ease surrounded by the smell of machine grease as they walk between Crimson's feet. 

「We're not invalids,」 Hin Shen sighs when Hu catches his arm a step above the ground on their way out of the hangar. 

Hu answers matter-of-factly, 「You don't have depth perception, and I've tripped on these stairs enough even with use of both my eyes.」 

(The Chinese are not known for softening their words. Hu knows that a Special Forces officer can take an honest assessment of his physical condition, but he doesn't push his luck and Hin Shen only snorts, shares a look with Xichi and moves on.) 

Cheung has hero-worshipped Po Xichi since the day Horizon Brave launched and she'd said in an interview that her brother died in Trespasser's attack on San Francisco, so she'd joined the Jaeger program to wipe them out. Lastly, if there are kaiju groupies, their counterpart is Jaeger groupies and Jin comes as close as possible without actually crossing any socially-unacceptable lines. He loves all mechs and their pilots-- one Jaeger and two Rangers above the rest, but definitely all of them. Horizon Brave has a special place on his wall right next to Crimson Typhoon's poster. 

Mark-1 Jaegers are notoriously difficult to fight in-- built when no one gave a shit about pilot safety or comfort or ease of movement and depended entirely on a Ranger's ability to fight past the pain of bruising battlesuits and eye-searingly bright HUDs. Horizon Brave doesn't have as many notches on her belt as Crimson Typhoon does, but her pilots command more respect from Hong Kong, Taiwan _and_ the mainland than any of the triplets even dare to imagine. 

(They mostly get health advice and marriage proposals over the joint public Weibo account. Mostly they post updates and pictures-- of themselves, the areas of the Shatterdome that aren't confidential, sometimes the rest of the crew and pictures with visiting Ranger teams. Jin usually insists that they take a three-person selfie just to show off their bruises after every session in the Kwoon, which always goes over well with the fans.) 

The triplets, reckless and cocky as they are, suggest yum cha during the busiest hour of the second-busiest day of the week, and press until Hin Shen and Xichi give in. Hin Shen misses it more than his co-pilot does, but neither of them particularly want to deal with the crowd, or running after carts, or expending effort to ignore the looks and whispers that get thrown around them. 

Jin invites Mako, and by extension the Marshal. Pentecost is on the verge of respectfully declining, but Mako _looks_ at him, and he doesn't want to deprive her the experience of dim sum in a Hong Kong teahouse at least once in her life. At least, Stacker hopes that it will only be once in her life; he's still recovering from his first and only duo foray with Herc Hansen. 

His Cantonese is middling at best and Hansen's is nonexistent and it's only when he has a matronly Chinese woman staring him down and waiting for him to take a chance and point at something he doesn't quite recognize, clamoring horde of hungry people reaching for the dishes on her cart, that he'd known true fear. 

The scene in Lin Heung is almost the exact same as the site of Pentecost's last defeat. 

"Don't worry," Hu says easily, "we always come when they're this busy so no one has time to ask for autographs." 

That doesn't mean they escape notice from other diners, though. Pentecost stands out most by virtue of not being a Chinese man (he gets some stares and pointing), but flanked by two legendary pilots and three local heroes, most people refrain from saying anything out loud about him, positive or negative. 

As soon as everyone's seated, Jin goes clockwise around the table with a pot of tea; Mako takes the other one, pouring counterclockwise from her spot until all the cups are filled. Cheung and Hu have their heads together, leaning over a free section of the table where they've mentally overlaid the layout of the teahouse over the cloth, and are pointing at different spots, planning out a route and divvying up the dishes they absolutely need. 

"We'll be back soon," Hu announces to the table, cracking his knuckles. 

Cheung rolls his shoulders, stands up and pushes his seat in. "Stay down. We have this handled." 

Jin shifts in his seat to get a better view of the dining area, arms braced against the table and the back of his seat, nervously watching his brothers wind their way behind seats, around other patrons and over little children dashing around the perimeter. He's coiled like a spring, tracking their process and waiting for the moment he gets to step in (their dim sum game is unparalleled). Just before Hu reaches his first cart, the youngest triplet takes off, abandoning the table to awkward conversation. 

Cheung reaches over an older man's head to intercept two plates of some shrimp wrapped in rice crepes, doused liberally in sweet soy sauce, and he passes them behind him to Jin, who has four little plates balanced on his arms already from Hu. Another two steamers of chicken feet are shifted gently into Jin's possession and he returns to the table victorious, both brothers struggling against the wave of humanity with even more plates of food as they wind their respective ways back to the congregation. Jin intercepts them halfway, ferries the dishes back while his brothers return to the fray. 

"Such good boys," Xichi laughs, stopping a passing cart to order a round of desserts. "True soldiers, throwing themselves into the line of fire." 

「Sit down and eat,」 Hin Shen tells them when they swing by the table to set even more plates down, the surface area of free space rapidly declining, but they just wave and split off again. On the last round, Hu discreetly sets a fork next to Xichi's plate and Jin does the same for Hin Shen (even the best prosthetics in development don't have the dexterity to operate chopsticks), then finally take their seats. 

Mako has already drained half her cup-- Cheung tops her off, teaches her to tap the table in thanks like a secret handshake. Mako listens intently while the rest of the table tries to hide its laughter at Pentecost's expression of dawning realization that his little girl is going to start attracting attention from Older Boys and even worse, _giving_ attention to them. And that maybe she's been spending a little too much time around three cocky, handsome, tall and good-humored veteran Jaeger pilots. One of them was bound to catch her eye sooner or later. 

(Pentecost likes the Wei triplets. He really does-- they're professional and considerate, and they've given him trouble but never maliciously. He fought to keep them in the program, and they've more than returned the favor in kaiju kills and hospitality toward both himself and Mako. He's also suddenly and inexplicably tempted to leap across the table and strangle the oldest of them.) 

Hu leans over to mutter into Pentecost's ear as he points out different dishes, as if in a last-ditch attempt to distract their commanding officer from his brother, "Shrimp, sticky rice, jellyfish, chicken, chicken, pork, and anything green is just vegetables. That one's tripe. That bun has chicken in it, that's uh... they call it 'daikonmochi' in Japan. That one's the same thing except with taro. Those five are sweet." 

Stacker points at a plate of something beige and unidentifiable. "And that one?" 

"Don't remember," Hu answers innocently. He's not a _bad_ liar, but he's met enough people who wouldn't put intestine in their mouth if they knew what it was to keep his trap judiciously shut. "Put it in your mouth and see if you like it?" 

Jin spits a mouthful of chicken feet-bones into his plate and grins. 「Not the first time he's said that.」 

Cheung reaches over Mako's head without looking up from his own plate to smack his brother on the shoulder. 

("Sensei," Mako says later, once they've all made it back to the Shatterdome in one piece, "can we do this again next week?") 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Mako, it's all give-and-take.

The Hong Kong Shatterdome's garage contains exactly zero bikes with engines under 500cc which normally isn't a problem-- anyone who needs a scooter has their own and PPDC-issue bikes run about 700cc, which is an adequate amount of power for the triplets when they want to head into the city. They're on their way out one afternoon, dressed in civvies with their helmets tucked under their arms when Mako trudges around the corner after seeing the Marshal off on his flight to Lima. 

She's too old now to get upset like she used to, but they recognize the way she drags her feet, clipboard held dejectedly to her chest. Mako's restoration project keeps her grounded in Hong Kong unless she's scoping out parts from other Shatterdomes, but the Marshal has to oversee PPDC operations all around the edge of the Pacific, especially now that the shutdowns are in progress, so he's away more often than he's at the base, and Mako spends most of that time either restless or moping. 

Jin speaks up first, an easy, 「Done for the day?」 

「Yes. Until the next shipment of cables comes in.」 

「How's progress on the old girl?」 Hu ducks behind her, plucks the clipboard out of her hands (Mako has long since given up on trying to stop them from looking over her notes) and flips to a section of blueprint. 「Saw the team working on the reactor last week, but that's going in last. Right?」 

「Mhm.」 

「Hey, we're heading into Kowloon for dinner,」 Cheung volunteers cheerfully, tapping a smudge of machine grease on her nose, 「you should get cleaned up and come with us.」 

She hesitates for a few seconds, until Jin drawls, 「You don't even have to get cleaned up, he's just neurotic.」 

「Let me rephrase: those of us who enjoy _hygiene_ , meaning everyone but Jin, usually want to clean up after working on a Jaeger all day.」 

「I need a shower,」 Mako laughs. 「So don't wait for me, I wouldn't want to impose.」 

「Aww, Mako doesn't want to spend time with us? You haven't been out with us in ages.」 

「Let it go, Jin. You sure, Mako?」 

「It's not that,」 she sighs, 「I would like to eat dinner together, but it takes time to shower and you three skipped lunch.」 

Hu looks taken aback by that, Cheung mildly surprised that she'd notice something so minor, but it's force of habit to keep track of these things, for Mako. She also knows that the triplets spend significant amounts of time making sure they fly under the radar for most people, as much as three Jaeger pilots can escape peoples' notice. The parts of their psych profiles that don't change year after year clearly mark them for the street kids they were-- not that Mako would ever admit to reading the files, or using the Marshal's clearance to access them. 

_Aggressively territorial; slow to trust strangers; mild separation anxiety; low expectations of stability._ It still shows. 

Stunned, Jin scratches the back of his neck and shares a look with Cheung. 「Hey. You uh, really don't have to be so polite with us. We wouldn't invite you if we minded.」 

Hu cuts in this time, passing back her clipboard and hefting his helmet between his hands like he misses the weight of their basketball in the twenty minutes it's been out of his grip. 「Just come out to the garage when you're done. We can wait.」 

「Yeah, we skip lunch all the time. It's not a big deal.」 

(Mako can count the number of people for whom the triplets would put off getting food on the fingers of one hand, though she's sure they'll tease her about it later. It's been months since they'd even had a proper conversation, in between drops and her Jaeger restoration schedule, but they can pick up as easily as if they'd been hounding her about chip upgrades for Crimson Typhoon just last week instead of last year.) 

「And besides, I saw you reworking the old plasmacaster.」 Jin smiles, mimes the cock and charge of the cannon, then the recoil of a shot. 「We should talk parts.」 

「Okay,」 Mako says at last, plucking at the collar of her grease-covered jumpsuit, 「that sounds good. I'll come meet you soon.」 

Sounds from the garage are usually pretty ominous-- doubly so if the noises are mostly whooping and shouting, engines revving. The complex is flooded with light when Mako steps into the storage area, the doors that lead to the track behind the Dome wide open. Cheung and Hu are sitting on their usual motorbikes, matte black with their insignia spray-painted over the body. Jin is-- 

「Don't distract him,」 Cheung tells her pre-emptively. From the track, Jin releases the clutch and pops a wheelie as he rounds the curve, holds it for a few seconds before smoothly lowering his front wheel back to the asphalt. Hu cups his hands over his mouth and yells, 「She's here! Let's get going!」 

When he pulls up to his brothers, Jin flips the visor of his helmet up, winks at Mako and revs the engine again. 

「We're going,」 Hu sighs, pulling on his helmet and swinging his leg over the seat, 「calm down.」 

More confirmation than question, 「You're riding with me, Mako?」 

Mako nods, takes the helmet (round and kind of uncool, but she's not going to complain) and asks as she clambers onto the bike behind Cheung, 「After dinner, can you teach me how to ride one of these?」 

He's silent-- Cheung's always had a hard time turning her down, doubly so if she's clinging to his shoulders on the back of his bike, so Hu's the one who carefully asks, 「You're cleared for it?」 

「I can be.」 

「The Marshal might murder us,」 Jin warns her, eyes curved up in a grin even though most of his mouth is hidden. 

「A worthy sacrifice,」 Mako tells him, saturating her voice with as much sage-like wisdom and authority as she's managed to pick up from Pentecost. The triplets always appreciate a sharp reply, people firing back when they start teasing. 

「Bro?」 

「It couldn't hurt,」 Cheung answers thoughtfully, then he laughs as he whips out his phone. 「Kind of tame compared to that time we tried to sneak her into Crimson's Conn-Pod before patrol.」 

「Okay, but we'll need to find a starter bike,」 Hu says, bracing his foot on a peg and then kicking off with the other, leading the way out of the lot and onto the road. 

Later, when they return to the Dome, the triplets seem to have forgotten about their promise to teach her to ride a motorcycle in favor of teasing Hu about forgetting to ask for no tapioca bubbles in his milk tea, which he's still chipping away at. 「I hate this stuff,」 he sighs, swilling his straw through the now lukewarm drink before tucking it back into the storage compartment of his bike, 「it keeps getting in my teeth.」 

Jin finished his long before they even mounted their bikes to return to the Shatterdome, and he snickers, 「If you can't handle that many balls in your mouth, you should've asked them to remake it.」 

「 _You_ should've reminded me.」 

「No way, I always get the last bit when you forget.」 

Cheung interjects, as if to mediate, 「Don't tease him just because you can take more balls at a time, Jin.」 

Jin takes it in good humor, letting out a bark of laughter while Hu makes a strangled sound, but he manages to choke out, 「Oh my god, Mako is _right there_.」 

She doesn't even have time to ask before Cheung swipes his card in front of a reader to open the garage doors, walks his bike inside and parks it next to a sweet little navy-blue number that was definitely not in the parking area when they left it. Jin whistles under his breath and sets his bike on its kickstand while Hu does the same, both of them flanking her. 

「We only gave Liu three hours,」 Hu says, even his tone a little surprised. 「I didn't think he'd be able to get it done this fast.」 

「Kawasaki Ninja 300,」 Cheung announces, dusting off the leather seat and tossing a new helmet to Mako. 「Used to be mine, but I let one of our guys have it when we joined up with the PPDC. Modded a few times, but she still purrs like a kitten.」 

「Ah-Liang upgraded a while back,」 Jin laughs, 「but the paint job is only three hours old. You can stencil your own design on it, we figured you'd like this color for a base.」 

Mako... has no idea when they'd had time to hash out colors, but she approaches slowly, curls her fingers over the handlebar and swings her leg over the seat when Cheung prompts her to sit. Jin kneels next to it, extracts a screwdriver from his back pocket and starts adjusting the pegs to match her height. 「Switched out some of the upholstery and grips, it looks like. These things and the tires are new too. Guess they were pretty worn down after two maniacs had their way with it.」 

「It's dark out so you won't be able to give it a test run until tomorrow.」 Hu bounces twice on his feet, goes to a rack and takes down a set of knee and elbow guards. 「If nothing goes down, we'll give you a rundown once we're finished for the day.」 

「This is too much,」 Mako sighs, hands running over the contours of the bike's shell, fingertips dipping into its sleek curves, running over the cool metal of the handlebar and then to the key still stuck in its ignition. Motorcycles are far more common than Jaegers, when it comes down to sheer numbers, but she's spent plenty of time around Jaegers and hardly any on a bike. 

「We still owe you for the Orb upgrade,」 Cheung says, ruffling her hair. He adds with a playful warning, 「Just do right by my baby and we won't have any problems.」 

「Wow, he's still calling it that.」 

「Bro, you're such a _dweeb_.」 

「Shut up. Just because I saved up for a bike and you two spent all your money on snacks.」 

Mako takes the key, clips it to the ID card around her neck and dismounts, pushes the bike to a secluded spot near the other motorcycles in the garage. She turns a million-watt smile on the triplets, voice crackling with the boundless sort of enthusiasm only a mechanics junkie with a new toy could manage. 「Tomorrow. At seven. Don't be late.」


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liu's warehouse project means most of the clan works for him out of loyalty and the expectation of an eventual payoff, but never quite enough to live on. (Pre-PPDC.)

Romeo Blue's hand is about twenty times Jin's size, but he clambers onto the enormous limb after it's loaded out of the truck and into the warehouse. He moves gingerly, ribs still sore and bruised from their weekend fight but eyes shining at the prospect of helping to take apart such a delicate piece of machinery-- 

Hu sighs, pulls his arm closer to his chest and slumps against the wall, shoulder-to-shoulder with Cheung, who has a textbook open to a unit about recursion. The oldest triplet is icing his ankle, occasionally reaching up to prod at a mottled bruise on his cheek. The rest of his injuries are of the strains-and-sprains variety, cutting into how well he can move but not visible on his skin-- he and Hu try to draw fire away from Jin, and mostly succeed, but it usually has them limping for the rest of the week. Their work doesn't require them to dismantle enormous pieces of robot, not that either of them would mind the trade-off either way. 

「Where the hell did we get that one?」 Hu's voice is raspy around the fist-shaped bruise on his neck, muffled against Cheung's shoulder. He manages to sound both irritated and impressed at the same time; getting a first-hand peek at a Jaeger's inner workings is interesting for both him and Jin, despite their different specialties, but he dreads having to help take the thing apart once they reach the circuitry and electronics underneath all the armor. 

「They shut down the plant in Guangzhou, but finished this spare before Romeo Blue went down.」 Cheung sighs, puffs his cheeks out and shifts slowly so his ribs aren't compressed by his brother's weight, then turns the page. 「Our guys got to it first, so.」 

Hu is silent for a second-- his hand twitches when Jin slips on an armored plate, but he relaxes again once their brother's braced himself on an outcropping and one of the other workers passes him a welding torch and mask. 「When do you need to take off?」 

「Now. Don't make anything worse.」 Cheung extends his fist, waits for Hu to bump it with his own before setting aside the textbook and pushing himself to his feet, brushing off the back of his pants. 

「I know. You too.」 

Jin looks up, pops his welding visor up and returns a nod before going back to work. Cheung walks his bike to the loading dock, lashes a box of scrap to the back of it and takes off for the residential sector of the Old Kowloon. He pulls up next to a grocery store, an elderly granny puttering around inside it with a mop, and parks his ride by a stack of winter melons. 

「You,」 the old lady says, advancing on him with the handle of her mop held out in front of her, 「are still underage and not wearing a helmet.」 

「If I could afford a helmet,」 Cheung answers, flashing her a cheeky grin, 「I would still spend the money on things I might actually use. But I brought the aluminum Uncle asked for.」 

Granny Chu presses a few bills into his hand as he moves the package to a nearby table, and then she reaches behind the counter for a paper bag. It's full of vegetables that have just begun to wilt, enough to last the three of them a few days, and she plonks the whole thing into his arms before he can protest. 

It feels like charity and it leaves a bitter taste in the back of Cheung's throat, but Jin and Hu don't earn much-- Liu's warehouse project means most of the clan works for him out of loyalty and the expectation of an eventual payoff, but never quite enough to live on. They still fight to earn spare cash, and Cheung still makes the rounds, finds out what the locals want then procures it, somehow or another. 

Twisted, charred scrap metal sells for less than intact sheets; Romeo Blue's gauntlet could be the clan's big break, could be another dead end, but either way they still need to eat and he won't turn down food when it's being given to him. 「Thank you,」 he says instead, grimacing when Granny Chu's gnarled fingers pinch his cheek and drag him down so she can affectionately slap him on the back of his head. 「If you need anything, please just let us know. We will help where we can.」 

「Tell your brothers I said to eat better,」 she says, finally letting him go. 「Those were just going to rot if you didn't take them anyway.」 

Cheung ducks his head, more bow than nod, and he straps the bag to the back of the bike, takes off for the apartment they're staying in. It's a run-down studio with a minuscule fridge tucked in a corner of the kitchen. Spartan otherwise, three twin-sized mattresses lined up on the floor in one corner and books scattered around the rest of the space. 

He moves more slowly than usual, but there's plenty of time before Hu and Jin get home and a pot of leftover soup they've been stretching for a few days already. Knowing how to code won't come in handy for the three of them until much later, if ever, but keeping things running and the food from spoiling falls on him so Cheung washes a few cups of rice, throws them in the little cooker that's been on its last legs for about a year already, and starts unloading the bag. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheung doubts anyone is more grateful than he is that all three of them lived to see their first birthday after the closing of the Breach. (Alternate timeline.)

Cheung never says what he means; he stays in himself so his brothers seek him out, piling on top of him when he’s trying to sleep and grabbing onto his arms and shoulders as they walk. They demand attention and he’s the one who gives it; it’s how they’ve always worked and how he likes it. 

Today, he’s the one who wraps his arms over their shoulders as they walk back to their room. PPDC staff knows the date, the Kaidanovskys are in town for it (and a long vacation through the rest of Asia, courtesy of the Wei brothers), but after the noise and the celebration they had in town, Cheung doubts anyone is more grateful than he is that all three of them lived to see their first birthday after the closing of the Breach. 

Still, Cheung sighs as they make their way slowly toward the apartment, “Next time we stay out this late, I’m gonna need a warning.” 

“What, ‘cause it’s past your bedtime?” 

“Jin, we should respect the elderly.” 

Cheung presses a spiteful kiss against Hu’s temple, sneering at his irritated snort. They’re not _children_ , and he might be the oldest but he’s not their _mom_ no matter how much he tries to act it, pulling away to carefully inspect the notch in Hu’s ear, warm breath puffing against its healed edges. And then Cheung drags his youngest brother against him, bumps their foreheads together and laughs, softly. 

“So I’ll know how long I need to put up with you two in public.” 

( _Thank you for being born with me._ ) 

“Are you okay?” Hu asks, tone dry but fingers curling into the material of his shirt, hand warm at the small of his back. “Because if you’re terminal with something, I’d like to know before I catch it.” 

“Maybe he’s just being a big sap,” Jin snickers, his own grip around Hu’s wrist tightening as he shifts to fit himself more comfortably under Cheung’s arm, tuck his head under his big brother’s chin. “Like always.” 

“Shut up, both of you.” Cheung shoves them both into their room when Hu gets the door open, watches his brothers stumble inside, catch themselves, then head over to sit on his bed and claim a pillow each. They insist his mattress is bigger; maybe it is, but he’s never been bothered to measure. “And go sleep in your own beds.” 

They just grin at him. 

“You are _grown men_.” 

“Shut up and come here, bro.” 

“Disregard that,” Cheung says, throwing his hands up but unable to hide his own smile, “you’re actually five. You two are five years old.” 

( _Thank you for being alive with me._ ) 

They’re grown men and far too old (and probably too tall and honestly, their shoulders too broad) to comfortably fit three people to a twin-sized bed, but they’re also shrewd engineers, not to mention the Shatterdome high scorers in Tetris Battle, so they make it work. “We probably could have just pushed two beds together,” Hu grumbles into Cheung’s chest, knees knocking against his, “like we should’ve done seven years ago.” 

“I’ve been saying,” Cheung gripes, his back pressed to the wall and one arm claimed as a pillow. It is, after all, _his_ space that routinely gets invaded, but Jin laughs into the back of Hu’s neck, shifts so he’s a few inches further from the edge of the bed and he grabs onto Cheung’s forearm. 

( _Thank you for…_ ) 

Jin whispers, “ _Moumantai_ , come on.” They’ve been keeping Hu in the middle more often, after Otachi. It used to be Jin that would get squished between his brothers, but they reshuffled (much to Hu’s chagrin) after his recovery, because _Jin’s_ never come as close to dying as Hu has. Executive decisions are not questioned. Jin basks in it, as he does everything else. “If you two want to get up to do it, I’ll help, but.” 

He gets a resounding silence. Hu laughs, breath whistling in his throat and Cheung removes his arm from the tangle of limbs on top of him to swipe his palm over the stubble on both his brother’s heads. 

“Maybe tomorrow morning,” Hu offers at last, but the youngest triplet snorts when he adds, “this isn’t so bad for now.” 

“Go to sleep, assholes,” Cheung manages to say through a yawn, content and full and warm, “we’ve got plenty of time to figure this out.” 

( _Thank you for being the reason I’m not alone in this world._ ) 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their evaluation read, _Extensive knowledge of combat and deployment strategies; decisive; high level of mental and physical compatibility; advanced practical skill in technical areas; thorough understanding of diplomatic repercussions._ (Academy days.)

"Category II kaiju have three major weak points," Cheung said to the instructor, a stocky man with a clipboard and a thick moustache. He kept his eyes trained on the mess of pipes and sheet metal across the room, and continued in a bored monotone, "Eyes, joints, external sacs. Standard protocol is to disable as many as possible before engaging at close range." 

The instructor (more like a warden or a boot camp officer, really) grunted his approval and moved on to Hu. He inspected the condition of his uniform, checked that each of the buttons was in place while Hu stood at attention, back straight and arms at his sides. When the instructor finished, he flipped a page on his clipboard and pressed his pen to the paper. "Name and rank," he demanded. 

"Wei Tang-Hu. Trainee." 

"Recite the conditions of the first kaiju attack." 

"To our best knowledge, a 7.1 richter earthquake, epicenter at the deepest point of the Marianas Trench, opened the Breach." Hu's eyes rolled toward the ceiling for a second, but he regained his bearings and finished on a smug note. "A Cat I kaiju, callsign Trespasser, swam across the Pacific and attacked San Francisco, Sacramento and Oakland. After six days of military action, the American government dropped three nuclear warheads on it. And Oakland." 

The instructor looked at Hu expectantly, as if waiting for the rest of his answer. 

"The United States military is prone to long periods of weak-willed and futile military action followed by reckless, disproportionate and apocalyptic response?" 

Aleksis and Sasha Kaidanovsky, both standing two teams down the line, twitched violently but managed to rein in their laughter. Two Americans on Cheung's left gave him dirty looks. Two Canadians on _their_ left shared a glance and nodded. Both Hu's brothers looked at him curiously; they could function well in English, no problems with grammar and syntax, but the difference in their levels was stark when he really wanted to impress with the language. 

_I'll explain later,_ he mouthed to them when the commanding officer briefly looked away. 

Their CO, luckily for Hu, was also about as French-Canadian as they come-- Sergeant Gaultier-- and he smirked. Quickly schooling the expression, he clarified, "And what would you have done?" 

"Evacuated Oakland. Planted mines in San Francisco Bay for when it heads toward Sacramento, then dropped the nukes while it was occupied." 

"Name and rank," the instructor snapped, turning to Jin. 

"Wei Tang-Jin. Trainee." 

"Explain his reasoning." 

"Killing it in water will reduce damage to buildings if it doesn't burn up completely," he rattled off. "The water will absorb radiation, reducing fallout. Oakland is in range of a nuclear warhead if dropped in the bay, so citizens should be evacuated while the kaiju rips through San Francisco." 

Gaultier nodded, moved his pen to the next section of his page and looked at him again. 

Jin imagined that they would be drawing the wrath of the six teams of Americans in the lineup for their answers, but he continued, "If pelting a creature with bullets for two days was useless, we would have acted much more quickly. Executive order instead of expecting swift cooperation from... 'obstructionist bureaucrats'? Allowing the kaiju to go on for four more days was a good political move, but the former residents of San Francisco, Oakland and Sacramento probably do not appreciate it." 

"Political move," the sergeant prompted, turning to Cheung. 

"If a warhawk politician votes against military action because he simply does not like the president," Cheung said easily, "and if there are enough of them in office that three cities were destroyed before all other options were exhausted, even Americans won't let that stand." 

_'Even' Americans?_ someone whispered incredulously. Cheung assumed that the sheer level of discourse and speculation and furor in Chinese newspapers, message boards and TV about America's response to the first kaiju attack had escaped them, and he wasn't about to be the one to say that most of that information had been thrust on them without anyone actually agreeing to learn it all. 

He finished with, "It was a political move that showed the danger of allowing rivalries to compromise the protection of humanity. The Chinese, South Korean and Japanese governments set aside their differences because they did not want to be used as the next great example of diplomatic failure." 

"And this," Gaultier said, mouth pressed in a thin line, shoulders shaking as he unclipped the papers and handed them to Hu, "is how you pass the first phase of Jaeger Academy. You three are dismissed." 

Their evaluation read, _Extensive knowledge of combat and deployment strategies; decisive; high level of mental and physical compatibility; advanced practical skill in technical areas; thorough understanding of diplomatic repercussions. Areas of improvement: inter-team cooperation._

「We sucked up to Gaultier for an hour and a half and still didn't get a full score,」 Hu sighed as they made their way to their room, folding the page and tucking it into his pocket. 

Cheung laughed, propping his elbows on their shoulders as they walked. 「Did you see his face? He wanted to give it to us.」 

「Man,」 Jin grumbled, 「but we're really gonna get it from those guys at lunch.」


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bag work days would be a lot more enjoyable for Mako if the triplets weren't so overtly aware of how they look while they're doing it.

Bag work days would be a lot more enjoyable for Mako if the triplets weren't so overtly aware of how they look while they're doing it. Of course, they'd have to be incredibly dense to miss how chunks of the Shatterdome staff squeeze themselves into the gym to watch, and kids who grew up fighting in the streets don't become adults who miss obvious signs like that.

Seeing them spar is upsetting for a couple people (they still make each other bleed, sometimes-- even pilots as close as the Weis don't always remember to hold back against each other, especially with their history); watching the three of them drenched in sweat punching at their respective sandbags in perfect sync is family-friendly entertainment for all. 

Okay, maybe not so family-friendly.

Music pounds through the concrete walls, into the floor and it vibrates up her legs, but it drowns out the sounds of muttering and casual conversation, which is what the brothers were probably going for in the first place. None of them are leading, exactly, and they never repeat a routine-- or if they do, Mako's never seen it-- but they manage to connect their strikes with meticulous timing, sandbags even ricocheting off their fists and feet in the same direction, for the same distance. 

Chaos theory says that should be impossible, or at least highly unlikely given the configuration of sand inside each bag and all the millions of possibilities contained in each grain (the basics of chaos theory and several other concepts like quantum coupling and harmonic resonance are a must-know for anyone in J-tech); one of the engineers from LOCCENT whispers to another that given how drift-compatibility has already violated several fundamentally agreed-upon laws of biology, maybe it's physics and mathematics that are next out the door. 

(Mako thinks fondly of the indignant sputtering that idea would inspire in Dr. Gottlieb and is briefly grateful for his complete lack of interest in the daily lives of Rangers.)

The triplets score three head-height jabs each, slide fluidly backward to clear space as their bags swing away, then forward again. They each plant one foot and kick, muscles in their backs and calves cording as their hips pivot, toes gripping the mat, arms held close to their chests. Their shins' connections with worn pleather sound like a single impact instead of three separate ones, and leave nearly identical streaks of sweat on the material.

None of them have looked at each other once since the last song began, all three blinking through stinging perspiration, eyes locked on their targets, their chests heaving in precise rhythm; in through the nose, out through the mouth. It's like watching them drift. 

Shirtless.

Sasha smiles (or what passes for a Sasha-smile, anyway), hand on her chin, and she discreetly cocks her head to the side as the triplets double over, hands on their knees to catch their breaths, then drop into a crouch to stretch their legs as the song winds down. Aleksis had wisely elected not to join his wife, Mako, and a good portion of the Cherno Alpha/Crimson Typhoon teams, assuming correctly that none of them would be lacking in company while he does something productive. Like polish his rings. 

It's a ritual for the Hong Kong natives, but the Kaidanovskys are only beginning to settle into daily life at the Dome.

The next song starts and the triplets are back upright, idly adjusting their handwraps and retying the drawstrings on their shorts through the intro, heads bobbing. They drop smoothly into identical offensive stances once the first electronic beats of Daft Punk's Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger start pumping through the speakers.

One of the women next to Mako snaps a cameraphone picture, the click just loud enough to draw grins from all three brothers, even though none of them look over. 

"They are so vain," Sasha says, voice tinged with both exasperation and appreciation. 

"Lieutenant," Mako sighs back, eyes involuntarily tracking a droplet of sweat down the sweeping curve of Jin's spine as it slides over the knobs of his vertebrae and under his waistband, "this isn't even the worst of it."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this was Mako & Raleigh taking care of de-aged triplets!

Cheung is lighter than Mako imagined he’d be. Which shouldn’t be a surprise, given his current age (anywhere between six and eight), but from the day they’d met he and his brothers had always maintained a pretty good lead of about twenty kilos and 15 cm on her. “Oh my god,” Raleigh says, voice strained and a little bit breathless, Hu and Jin squirming in his arms, both of them reaching for Cheung, “they’re so cute. What _happened_?”

Mako obligingly moves closer to Raleigh as Cheung lunges in their direction, hands outstretched. They’re thin, but not in an unhealthy way, clean except for the usual scrapes, dirt and bruises kids accumulate over the course of a day. They’d always been pretty carefree, for pilots. Laidback and mischievous even after kaiju attacks accelerated.

It’s not until she sees them, young and truly without any worries (other than each other, and the fact that they’re in a strange place) that it finally dawns on her how much weight they’d been carrying. Fighting to survive puts lines on everyone’s face, as it turns out.

Cheung gives Raleigh a mistrustful look, but turns to Mako once he’s made sure that both brothers are solid and present. In Mandarin, he demands, 「Where are we?」

「You’re in Hong Kong.」

「Ah,」 Hu sighs, trying to crawl over Raleigh’s back and unable to move any further past the arm clamped around his waist to do more than slump over the man’s shoulder, 「oh no.」

Jin frowns, wriggling in the opposite direction of his brother. 「We don’t speak Cantonese.」

「You’ll learn,」 Mako says easily, but pauses when all three children turn horrified looks on her.

「Are you kidnapping us?」 Cheung starts kicking, shoving halfheartedly at her arm but clearly prepared to start fighting in earnest, depending on her reply. 「Put us down! We have to go home!」

「We’re trying to figure out how to send you home,」 Mako says reassuringly while Raleigh coos over the younger brothers, his goofy smile, gentle handling and pathetic attempts at putonghua endearing him more to them than Mako’s been able to convince Cheung of her own trustworthiness. 「You’re safe here,」 she continues firmly, remembering the years of grief they’d given the Marshall and the lengths to which they’d gone to stick together, 「all three of you. We won’t separate you.」

Serious-faced Cheung’s mouth cracks into a gap-toothed grin (Mako swallows the lump in her throat when she sees that they’re even losing teeth in the same order) and he settles down, arms wrapping around her neck as he sighs against her shoulder, eyes peering over the material of her jacket to stay locked on his brothers. 「Okay,」 he grumbles, 「but you have to call our parents. They’ll worry.」

「Okay,」 Mako says, squeezing him tightly. 「We’ll call them. They won’t worry. You can play here, like a vacation until we send you home.」

"Mako," Raleigh says abruptly, "are you okay?"

"They are very cute."

"It’s not that."

"If we can’t send them home," she says carefully, "maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. They would grow up in a world without kaiju."

Raleigh’s silent for a long moment, but his expression seems to say that he’d put a hand on her shoulder, if they weren’t both full of triplets. “If we don’t send them home,” he says, “what happens to their world?”

"I don’t know. I didn’t say we shouldn’t, only that if we can’t."

"We could adopt them," Raleigh suggests, returning Mako’s incredulous glare with a sheepish smile. "Right, you’re right, they’re a handful. But look at how cute they are. Brothers, you know."

"Raleigh."

"… _I_ could adopt them.”

"Raleigh!"

“ _Look at them_.”

"We can discuss this later."

「My little brother is tired,」 Cheung informs Mako, two seconds before Jin yawns. Raleigh has heard enough Chinese in the months behind them to catch the gist of his words, so he hefts Hu more securely against his shoulder and looks at Mako.

「We have a room where you can take a nap,」 she offers, thinking of the triplets’ dorm, with its private bathroom and set of beds, due to be cleared soon, once Liu finds the time in his schedule.

「Yes.」

「We can push the beds together for you, if you want.」

「We’re seven,」 Jin pipes up this time, 「we get our own beds now!」

Hu mumbles an agreement, eyes already drifting shut.

「That’s fine too,」 Mako answers, knowing they’d somehow manage to end up in the same bed anyway, by the time they wake up from their naps. They’d never outgrown the habit, even as adults. 「We have a space that you’ll like.」

「You’re like a big sister,」 Hu giggles, nestling himself into Raleigh’s arm and briefly grabbing Jin’s wrist. 「You’re so nice. We like you a lot!」

Mako hums as they walk, her leading the way down a familiar corridor, to the residential wing. 「Thank you. I learned from the best big brothers.」

「Big brothers are great,」 Hu says earnestly, drawing exasperated but affectionate smiles from both siblings, mirrors of the faces they’d have as adults. Jin brushes his hand over his shoulder and Cheung reaches across the gap between Mako and Raleigh to touch his ankle before drawing back. 「What are they like?」

"Damn," Raleigh sighs, "I’m gonna cry. Oh my god, look at them."

Mako smiles. 「They’re triplets too.」

That gets their attention like nothing else did; Cheung clings to her even more tightly (how could anyone be bad, if they know _triplets_?) and Jin’s the one who asks, 「Will we meet them? Are they nice?」

「They can be mean, but they’re always nice to me.」 She continues after a pause, 「You’ll meet them, someday.」

「Uh huh, big brothers are like that. What are _they_ like?」

「Hmmm.」

They wait patiently, until Mako keys in their access code and the door to their (‘their’) room hisses open. Cheung nudges her this time, straightening up to look her in the eye as Raleigh sets the younger Weis down on their beds and she does the same. 「What are they _like_?」

「Brave. And very smart. And they take good care of each other.」 Cheung burrows into the blankets himself, but Raleigh goes the extra mile to tuck Jin and Hu in. Mako’s co-pilot seems to just barely resist kissing them on their foreheads, while Mako herself stands stiffly with her hands clasped in front of her. 「They’re always together, and they like to switch places and pull pranks on the crew.」

「Of course,」 Jin says, tossing and turning a few times before he bursts out of his bed and scrambles to bury himself under the blankets with Cheung— to get a better look at Mako, but also to squish closer to his big brother. 「What’s the point of being triplets otherwise?」

Hu, not to be left out, joins them without another word. Raleigh clutches his chest, sits heavily on Hu’s bed and buries his face in his hands, screaming silently into them.

「You don’t have to know so much about them,」 Mako says when they turn three wide-eyed, pleading looks on her again. 「They’re heroes. That’s all.」


	9. Chapter 9

"How were you planning to get the Centipede locked in," is the first thing Herc says as he ducks into Stacker's room, no pre-emptive knock or warning. He shuts the door behind him, rubbing his good hand over the stubble on his chin. 

The Marshal has his circuitry suit on, the armor on his legs and arms already in place. He doesn't turn around, but he lifts the chestpiece off its rack and unbuckles the fastenings, regards the crests engraved on its shoulder pads. "How do you think?" he answers, turning in place as he slots the armor into position, flexes his hands. 

Drivesuits have become more streamlined since even the Mark III days, simple enough for a pilot to suit up almost entirely on their own, except for the most delicate moving pieces. Herc steps forward without prompting, around Stacker, and he flips open the spine component's box with his good hand, lifting it out even as its fasteners start to twitch, searching for something to grasp. 

Engineers nicknamed it the Centipede years ago. Herc'd never liked the idea of sticking something named after the massive bugs he used to find in his kitchen onto his back, but Stacker seems to relish the sensation of circuitry tapping back into his nervous system, his senses extending out of his own body. He cocks his head back, inhaling deeply as the LEDs down his spine flicker. 

"Here," Herc says, motioning for Stacker to turn around, then pressing the spine into place between his shoulders. "Ready to go." 

"Bit different from the Mark Is," Stacker murmurs. "Doesn't pinch as much. Nice movement in the elbows." 

"The brats have it easy these days," Herc quips. "In our day, we'd walk five miles to get in a Conn-Pod. In snow three feet deep." 

"Uphill both ways." 

"Carrying these bloody drivesuits." Herc drops his gaze, curling his fingers around the strap of his sling. 

When he looks up, Stacker's turned around, his expression calm. Outside, a crewmember dashes by, the sound of clanking tools echoing off metal Shatterdome walls. Through another surface, Herc can hear shouting, and the PA system clicks on to summon someone called Andreyev to Crimson Typhoon's hangar. Cherno's too old to salvage parts from; China's red titan is not. Hinges and joints, mainframe circuitry that can be retrofitted to Danger's chestpiece... 

(It's a supreme form of disrespect to take parts of another Ranger's Jaeger for your own, but the last days of war don't leave them many options. Their Chinese crewmates had suggested it first-- isn't it better to take parts already here than to waste time and money shipping in more? Besides, the triplets were no strangers to scavenging; they'd appreciate resourcefulness. 

Chuck had objected at first, child of the Shatterdome that he is. He relented when Mako'd said, 'They wanted to be there during Operation Pitfall, we can at least do this for them.' Then he got to work repurposing one of Cherno's foglights for Striker's chest. 

Herc doesn't doubt that he and Stacker raised two of the finest Rangers the PPDC has ever seen.) 

"Herc," Stacker says, "understand that I'll do everything in my power to bring your son back. But--" 

"I know, Stacker," Herc interrupts, reaching for his old friend's shoulder. He wonders if this is what it's like to be in the center of a tornado: the calm eye in a furious storm, his chest pulled tight, lungs trying and failing to draw in air. His voice is strained, but he tries to sound like a Marshal. Like the last man standing. "It's not called Operation Pitfall because it's a damn walk in the park. I know." 

Stacker only nods, gaze steady, and covers Herc's wrist with his hand. Then he pulls away, picking up his helmet and striding to his sink for his Metharocin. He leaves the tin, squares his shoulders and checks himself in the mirror, self-consciously adjusting the armor over his stomach. When he catches Herc's eye in the glass, he flashes a small, wry smile. 

When the announcement for all Rangers to report to the hangar comes, Sgt. Hercules Hansen falls into step behind M. Stacker Pentecost. 

" _Stacker_ ," Herc says to his back, just before the doors hiss open. 

The Marshal cants his head to the side, then draws himself up to his full height. He doesn't turn around when he answers, "I know."


	10. Chapter 10

Cheung's browsing a rack of T-shirts when he gets the call, his phone vibrating in his pocket while it blasts the first few beats of an MC Jin single. Hu looks up from across the store, where he's trying a wrestle an eye-searing orange jacket out of Jin's hands. Cheung casually ignores them as he checks the caller ID and picks up. "Mako?" 

"Hangar," she says tersely. "Come back." 

Jin and Hu gravitate over, as if sensing that something spectacular is about to happen. Hu props his chin on his brother's shoulder, ear held close to the phone, right when Cheung repeats her. "Hangar?" 

"Help me." 

"What's wrong?" 

After a long silence, Mako answers, "I'm stuck." 

Jin reaches over Cheung's shoulder just as Hu pulls his arm down, hitting the button to put her on speaker. His 'Are you alright?' drowns under Cheung's alarmed 'Did something fall on you?' and Hu's 'How did you get stuck?' 

"I got out of the harness to take a closer look at Crimson Typhoon's hydraulics," Mako replies, reluctance in her voice now that it's obvious she's talking to all three Weis, "and now I'm stuck. I didn't climb back out because the machinery looks delicate and I didn't want to break anything." 

"Thanks?" 

"Come get me out," she pleads. "The hangar is empty." 

"Call for a tech," Hu suggest, checking his watch, "they're always around." It's one of his and his brothers' few days off, between building their Jaeger and training. The crew's waiting on a shipment of parts, Kwoon and simulators booked all day by the other teams stationed in Hong Kong. They'd decided to go shopping for civilian clothes, spend a day in the city. 

"Yeah, Mako, Metropole International is fifteen minutes away." 

"I can wait." 

"Why don't you want the crew to help you out?" Jin asks even as he allows Hu to take the jacket he'd been eyeing and return it to the rack. They're already on their way out of the store when he scrolls through his own contacts list. "Or the Marshal? Or Tendo?" 

It was hard enough securing clearance to be in the hangar, let alone crawl all over Crimson Typhoon (the latter, actually, she's still technically not allowed to do), and Mako dodges the question. "I need them to take me seriously." 

"As opposed to us?" asks Cheung. 

"Who already don't." 

"We're never gonna let you live this down," Hu informs her cheerfully, hanging up as they leave the store and head onto the street to hail a cab for the ride back to the Shatterdome. 

"And," Jin tells her as he and Hu lay on Crimson Typhoon's foot, Cheung holding onto their legs, both younger brothers reaching into the gap a femur component would sit later on in construction, "we actually do take you seriously, Mako." 

Mako jumps, grabs their hands and holds on tight while they lift her up, her feet held carefully clear of the circuitry. She brushes imaginary debris off her jumpsuit and gives them a look that's trying to be aloof but ends up being mostly kind of sheepish. "But probably not after this." 

Cheung switches places with Jin and Hu, dropping onto his belly and scooting forward to inspect the connections they'd only just completed, checking for anything knocked loose or out of place. After an expectant silence, he pushes himself back to his feet and gives his brothers the all-clear. "You untangled some of the wires? It looks a lot less messy." 

"I was down there for half an hour," Mako answers stiffly as the Weis clap her on the shoulder and drag her toward the cafeteria for dinner, "what else was I supposed to do?"


End file.
